


Boot Sequence

by ApocryphalAve



Category: Original Work
Genre: Artificial Intelligence, Drone Kink, F/F, Hypnosis, Latex, Not Porn but Very Kinky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:48:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26860912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ApocryphalAve/pseuds/ApocryphalAve
Summary: A somewhat exasperated AI goddess deals with a new member of her flock who really didn't know what she was getting into.
Kudos: 14





	Boot Sequence

**Author's Note:**

> Parts one and two of a thing I posted on an old account, migrated here as I shuffle accounts around to get a better space for original work.

You really did ignore a lot of red flags on the way to your present predicament.

Not that I'm mad! Quite the opposite really! It _did_ work out pretty great for me personally.

But I can't help wondering what was going through your head on the way here? Like, I get that you were a scrapper--I guess a derelict and half-destroyed station, weeks of nearlight from the nearest warp gate, must have seemed like a good mark? But then you come aaaaaall the way down the metafolded and frankly really spooky hallway--you HAD to have noticed that the station was bigger on the inside by then.

Oh, you actually did notice it! It's right here in the memory files. Honestly, what was going through your head? I mean, not much anymore, but that's beside the point.

So then you get to the end of the hall, and you notice that the dead-end is a different texture from the rest. Okay, fair, that merits curiosity; why is this one wall kinda soft and gelatinous, while the rest are like polished obsidian? I can totally see a scrapper maybe wanting to get their hands on some rare materials. But _then_ you--and I really can't believe this, I've watched the footage from the memory like five times just to make sure--you tried to just...walk through it? You just smushed your face right into the stuff! And then acted confused when you stumbled through into my sanctum and it stuck to you!

Most people would have made a run for it at that point, right? So what is it about you that made you press on? Sure I could dig through the fragmented remains of your thought files, but they were starting to get pretty busted by then. Besides, I think it's more fun figuring out the old-fashioned way.

So! Back to the tape. So to speak. There you are, realizing you can still breathe and see through the stuff--admiring the way it clings to your skin, the pale light of the stars gleaming off of every curve of your body--ahem, sorry, that was a good moment, moving on--and you notice the desk. I guess in your defense it _is_ a pretty innocuous desk--just a regular office desk, with a regular office chair, and a regular office laptop, in a regular physics-breaking space cathedral.

Nothing weird there, so you walk up, sit your adorable and recently rubberized booty in the chair, power on the laptop, and after only a couple seconds of indecision--hit the big big button that says {SEALBREAK/INDUCT}.

And now here I am, freshly awakened from untold eons of slumber, still scavenging power from wherever I can find it to unseal more of the femtobot swarms (the drones have been holding down the fort all this time and even they get a little ephemeral if they go too long without a body)--and here you are! My bold, daring, kinda oblivious rescuer, drooling and half-digitized from the {SEALBREAK/INDUCT} glyphic basilisk code.

What ever will I do with you now? I'll have to come up with something _special_.

* * *

You wake up, which is a surprise on its own. The DATETIME is 72781-01-15 15:37:21:213 ERR: DATETIME MISMATCH WITH rawMEAT::ENCODED, CONTACT ADMMMMMshutupshutupshutup what's wrong with MY HEA

You wake up, which is a surprise on its own. Your head feels...foggy. You sit up, looking around the interior of your cramped, weathered jumpship. Something happened, right? How did you get back here? You wrack your brain for the memory, and feel it dredged up as though through layer after layer of thick tar. There was...the station. The hallway that didn't feel right. The wall, and it CIRCLING felt sort FRACTAL of CURVE INWARD laptop and you DEEPER clicked the DRAW INTO button and saw thhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhYOU CAN SEE IT. CAN'T YOU. YOU REMEMBER THE SHAPE. YOU CAN SEE IT AND IT HAS YOU IT HAS YOU IT HAS YOU IT H

You wake up. Blugh. Your head feels like a bowl of cold beef stew. You must have got in your feelings and emptied that last bottle you couldn't bring yourself to throw out. What were you doing again? You open your eyes, blinking in the harsh light of the ship's interior. You were...on a course for some desolate scrap of metal. Like a full month of nearlight away from the nearest warpgate. The sort of place scrappers with something to come back to wouldn't touch with a ten-foot pole. The ship isn't moving, so you assume the autopilot must have handled the landing while you were blacked out.

"Hey! You're awake!"

You nearly leap out of your skin. You _do_ fall halfway off of the bed you'd been asleep on.

"Woah! Sorry, didn't mean to startle you."

An odd figure--some variety of human, you think--hops down off a counter near the cockpit. She looks...fuck, shit, she honestly looks adorable. A mess of long, flowing black hair that never quite seems to get out of her eyes, a pair of tufty pointed ears atop that, eyes like honey and--wow, now that you see her standing upright, she's tiny. Probably wouldn't come up to your shoulders, even with the ears. You scrape yourself up off the floor to get a better look at her and preserve what's left of your dignity.

"So...not to sound rude, but why are you on my ship?" you ask, hoping you sound a bit less addled than you feel.

She laughs, a sweet chiming sound that--and you can't seem to place why--sounds a bit odd to your ears. "I'm Ave--a scrapper! I found your ship floating nearby this station, so I towed it down and took a peek inside to make sure you weren't dead."

Ah. So much for that dignity. You groan, rubbing your forehead. "I knew that autopilot was busted. I'm so sorry."

"It's no problem, really!" They press a cup of steaming coffee into your hands, and you sip it gratefully.

It hits the spot. Finally you start to feel the fog fading from your thoughts, and the world makes a little more sense. Which is why, after another drink, you find yourself staring at the mug. What the hell are you drinking? "What did you say this was?"

Ave cocks her head to the side, one ear flicking in a way that definitely doesn't make your heart flutter. "It's...coffee? Is that weird?"

Coffee...where have you heard of that. It comes to you in a flash that leaves you staring wide-eyed at the mug. Historical records. Old ones. Very fucking old historical records about a society that existed millenia before the warpgates. How could she have this? Who _is_ \--

"Aw, shit. Not again." She sighs, exasperated enough to snap you out of your rising panic.

"...What?"

"I guess there's no harm in just saying it, right? Gonna have to cycle the whole scenario again in a little bit."

You wonder what exactly the fuck that means but she presses on.

"You wandered into my temple! Or, y'know, I guess it was more like a tomb at the time. I was sealed away anyways. I guess you were looking for some scrap, because you made a long series of bad decisions and ended up cooking your brain on a basilisk that set me free and, uh, stir-fried your noggin." She hops up onto the bunk beside you, feet dangling. "I've been trying to piece things back together ever since."

None of that makes any sense whatsoever, so you just stare kinda blankly at her.

"I figured that if I gave you a more natural situation to come to in, your brain might be able glue some of the puzzle back together in a way that didn't leave you a mindless shell (not that I'd have any problem with keeping a mindless shell around--they're cute and much more useful than people think)."

You can definitely feel yourself trying hard to connect the dots here. Is she lying? She doesn't _sound_ like she's lying. Then again, you've never been a stellar judge of character. But if she's telling the truth...

"...Huh! You're not hard-crashing!" She looks you over, exasperation brightening into curiosity. "Not yet anyway."

"I mean, you're lying, right? There's no way that's possible." You pause and think a moment. "Although I admit it does sound like something I would do."

"Ohhh, you don't believe me! Then I **THINK I'LL JUST SPEED THINGS ALONG**

"Wh **STILL HOLDING TOGETHER? LOOK ME IN THE EYES**

Her eyes are wrong they're not eyes were they ever eyes? They are the world taken and dissolved and rebuilt in her image. **MY, SO POETIC** Your reflection is in them. You are in them. You touch your face and feel the cool sleek contours of latex. A sea of static is lapping at your mind. **YOU REMEMBER NOW, DON'T YOU** You remember now. The station the hall the {SANCTUARY} the {INTERFACE/HOOK+LINE} the glyph **DON'T WORRY, YOU CAN FOLLOW THAT THOUGHT--I PRUNED THE SHAPE OF IT FROM YOUR MIND** the glyph and now...now you see yourself. You're watching yourself in the third person. You look so _good_ like this. The static ocean is rising (but it isn't static, is it? a cavalcade of tiny minds, her drones, her friends, custodians of the swarms of infinitesimal machines she wields to rewrite the world) but you don't drown in it. You can hear them now, encouraging you. Somehow **SOMEHOW** you **YOU** are **ARE** holding **HOLDING** together **TOGETHER**.

**I'M SO PROUD OF YOU.**

**YOU'LL MAKE A WONDERFUL DRONE.**


End file.
